Page 64 of Wild Love
“Whoa.” I lift a hand and blink away the stars that are now flickering behind my eyelids.
“Sorry. Just checking the lighting,” someone says before another couple of flashes pop.
Dakota’s hand takes mine. I know it’s hers even before I open my eyes again.
“Are you okay?” she asks.
“This is weird, and what is this music?”
Her brows lift, and she smirks. “Johnny Maverick doesn’t want to be the center of attention?”
“I know. Crazy, right? No one is more surprised than me.”
“You’re going to be great. I promise. Trust me?”
I glance around at all the people waiting for me to get my shit together and nod. “Yeah. Okay. Let’s do it.”
“Good. Now take off that shirt, Johnny Maverick.”
20
Dakota
Maverick removes his T-shirt,a shy grin tugging at his lips. I can’t believe I’m having such a hard time getting him to take off his clothes. Who would have thought?
He balls up the fabric and tosses it at me. I hand it to Reese, who stands by shaking his head. All morning he’s been giving me the same look like he can’t believe I’m putting a great hockey player through this. I don’t care. This is going to be gold. I’ve seen Maverick without his shirt on, and it’s hot enough to sell just about anything.
“A roomful of women would kill to be you right now,” Reese says, passing me a clear bottle.
“I’m the only one that can do it without swooning at his feet.” I roll my eyes, but my stomach flips as I open the baby oil and step into the shower with Maverick.
“Whatcha got there?” he asks, eyeing me warily.
“Oil. It’ll give us that wet look without water.”
I squirt some of the cool liquid into one palm. “Sorry, it’s a little cold.”
I start on his chest and rub the oil into his skin in small circles. “On a scale of one to ten, how badly do you want to make a joke about me finally having my hands on you right now?”
“Shhh. You’ll ruin this moment for me if you speak.” He meets my gaze and grins.
My face warms as my hands slide down his abs. Okay, so maybe a little swooning. His muscles are hard, and his skin is warm. The oil makes every single part of him pop—each muscle and line and every tattoo. His body is covered with ink. I’ve seen them all numerous times in his shirtless debacles, but I’ve never inspected them this closely.
I run a finger along the outside of one on his side, tracing the hockey stick. It isn’t new, but the ink inside of it is. Four numbers: 13, 44, 19, and 23. His Valley jersey number, as well as Heath, Adam, and Rhett’s.
“When did you add these?”
“Right after the Frozen Four.”
“It’s really nice. Turn around and let me get your back.”
“You scratch mine, and I’ll scratch yours,” he mumbles as he complies. “Sorry. Only so many things I can hold back at one time. I deserve a freaking medal.”
“You can have a cookie when we’re done.”
“Will you feed it to me with your shirt off?”
I rub harder, digging my fingernails into his skin.
